


You Were the Lightning in That Rain

by Jasin



Category: Cars (Movies)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Injury Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-26 21:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15009680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jasin/pseuds/Jasin
Summary: "She'd seen a lot of cars wreck in the intense races she participated in, but never something so gruesome as this.  She could still see, in her mind's eye, the side of Jackson Storm's face crumpling in, feel the pound of the rain on her roof, hear the screams of witnesses."Jackson Storm wrecks badly, and Cruz is hired to put on her old racecar trainer hat help with his rehabilitation and physical therapy when his refusal to cooperate with his doctors threatens to end his racing career forever.





	1. Heavy Winds When Leaves Are Turning Red

**Author's Note:**

> Yea metal gear quote for a Cars 3 fanfic sue me! I headcanon Cruz as bisexual also! I would have written something femslash, except she really doesn’t have anyone she interacts with in the movie except Lightning and stormy boi. No nsfw or even anything approaching it because they're literally cars... this is NOT a human AU. Unbeta'd because I don't want any of my friends to know I wrote Cars 3 fanfic, and I think that's reasonable.

Cruz zipped down the slope of the mountain, tearing up the rain-slick track with her sturdy racing tires. The Florida 500 felt like it was miles behind her when she was out here in the open air, racing like she meant it. She and several other big names in racing were in Seattle, driving a race for a charity event, but the competition felt just as fierce as any official event. The stretch of mountainside highway they were using as a track was unlike anything they had ever driven competitively before, and the chilly June rain felt good as it beat down on her burning hot hood. Everything else felt the same as a real race: the acrid scent of singed rubber, the roar of the fans looking on from the cliffs above, and even Jackson Storm nipping at her rear tires. The yellow car careened around a corner, locking her tires to drift with deceptive ease, a skill earned through her and Lightning's countless grueling hours spent mastering inclement conditions. She hazarded a glance towards the racers trailing her, only to lock eyes with Jackson Storm's panicked expression. He was spinning out, hard. 

It was almost like the very turn of the earth slowed to a halt, as if Cruz had been seized in that drift for a second of eternity. A thousand years away, in front of her, Storm was smashing into the metal railing, tearing through the safety bar like it was wet newspaper, and flipping bodily over the sheer cliffside for a minute lifetime as she tried to unstick her wheels, call out, do anything at all. Storm's mouth was moving softly but producing no sound, and she'd never seen him look so petrified; he knew he was doomed. In an instant, it was over, the violent crunch and shatter of a wreck reaching her ears almost distantly. She detachedly registered the screech of her own brakes pumping and felt the world snap into focus as she halted and the blurred streaks of the passing countryside solidified into the world around her once more. The booming loudspeaker announcement, the whiz and clatter of other racers zooming past, panicked and shouting, and the harsh chop of helicopter blades from the approaching rescue team slammed into her like a wave. She couldn't move. 

Then she blinked, and she was somehow back in the garage she'd been in earlier before the race started. She was cold. Someone was talking to her, a faraway rumble, and she mechanically turned towards the voice. Lightning's voice. He looked concerned. 

"… really don't know how this happened, he was taking those turns really dangerously... such low visibility..." 

He paused expectantly, as if he was waiting for her to reply. She just nodded mutely. She'd seen a lot of cars wreck in the intense races she participated in, but never something so gruesome as this. She could still see, in her mind's eye, the side of Jackson Storm's face crumpling in, feel the pound of the rain on her roof, hear the screams of witnesses. The world outside the garage looked dim and gray, but dry. It had stopped raining sometime in between the accident and her resurfacing here at the garage. 

"The company running the event is going to be in a lot of hot water over this, but, as much as I hate to say it, Storm is the one who violated the race regulations. If he couldn't handle the weather he shouldn't have been on the track. He looked like he'd never even driven in rain before..." 

"Is he going to be okay?" Cruz interrupted, making eye contact with Lightning for the first time. 

"We... we don't know yet. We don't know if he'll make it, let alone if he'll ever race again." 

Cruz nodded numbly, digesting the information. Lightning continued talking, trying to reassure her, struggling to fill the normally chatty yellow car's hollow silence. Cruz nodded through it all, not knowing what to do. She felt like a bobblehead. She felt as if she'd left a part of herself frozen in that forever moment staring into Jackson Storm's helpless eyes. 

Six months later, Cruz Ramirez was loaded into the back of an eighteen-wheeler, gazing out the window at the unfamiliar New Hampshire coastline. Her thoughts were racing so fast that she barely registered the colorful autumn foliage as it passed her by. She hadn't heard even a whisper about Storm since the race in Washington, save for that he was alive and recovering. Storm's whole PR presence vanished and not so much as a single statement had been released in the ensuing period. He'd gone underground almost completely and no paparazzo had been able to discover his hideout. Her life had returned to normalcy, the only thing out of place was that it was some other too-fancy hotheaded racecar hot on her six. While Cruz had continued winning golds and making a name for herself in the racing world, the question of Jackson Storm's fate rested uneasily in the pit of her stomach. She'd inquired as to his condition several times over the months, but information was locked down tight and she didn't have any connections in Storm's inner circle to pull at. So Jackson Storm remained a mystery, alive and given months to heal but still not returned to the circuit. 

Two weeks ago, however, she had received a personal call from Storm's manager asking her out to a coastal city she'd never heard of before. Cruz had seen wide panicked eyes in her memory and agreed to come out instantly, but now she was here, she had no idea what they even wanted from her. Nothing had been explained over the phone, but she'd been curious enough to fly out despite all the mystery. It was late November, and she'd already run her last race of the season, snagging the gold medal with ease. It was almost boring, without Storm around to jeer after her and to triumphantly gloat at during victories. Cruz felt guilty as the thought crossed her mind, not really having any idea what kind of shape her opponent was in. She was jolted from her abstractions as the big semi jolted to a halt, and with a start, Cruz realized she had arrived at her destination. 

She descended the lowered ramp with a cheery, "Thanks for the ride!" that was completely at odds with the weight in her heart. Cruz was greeted at the door by a slim, sharp looking silver sedan who introduced herself as Scion, Jackson Storm's manager. The professional car looked every inch the part, and even given the circumstances, Cruz couldn't help but ogle her with a thinly concealed awe. They rolled through the main office and out into an expansive courtyard dotted with affluent looking villas. 

"This facility," Storm's manager started, "Is a private medical center for many well-off cars. Chick Hicks stayed here once, and it was recommended to us by him..." 

So, it wasn't an exclusive racecar care facility. Wealthy looking vehicles could be seen milling about now and then as they continued down the smooth stretch of pavement. 

"Frankly, Ms. Ramirez, I'm here to ask you a favor on behalf of Jackson," the silver car said, stopping suddenly. Cruz paused to look back at her. "Jackson has recovered somewhat, but he refuses to take his rehabilitation treatment seriously. He's screamed, abused, and harassed every one of the center's physical therapy specialists away, and even those from miles around. We just don't know what to do at this point..." She trailed off sadly. 

"Well, what is it that I can do?" Cruz asked earnestly. The situation was unfortunate, but she didn’t see how she fit into the puzzle. The silver car lowered her eyes nervously. 

"You.... you used to be a coach. You know how to deal with hotheaded racecars, and you have the training to actually put him through the paces of his PT. He won't listen to anyone else. He could have raced again months ago, but he's refusing to cooperate, and we're starting to lose hope. I've stalled as long as I can. The company is going to drop him if he isn't in shape for the next season. You're truly our last chance here." Abruptly, she started moving again. 

"I...I'm going to need some time to think about this," Cruz muttered, following meekly behind Scion. They entered a posh house painted in cheery colors. The inside of it was unmistakably clinical and cold despite the high quality furnishings, and the sterile smell drilled through Cruz. They crossed through the foyer and into a vaguely golden garage, furnished with waxen linens. It seemed like they were trying to cover the harsh scent of antiseptic motor oil with the suffocating odor of ylang ylang. The curtains were drawn around a small parking area, where Storm presumably idled, and Cruz could hardly see Storm in the fading glow of the sunset through the shades. 

"Jackson, I've brought Ms. Ramirez," Scion ventured quietly, pulling up a few feet away. She seemed to want to come closer, but was hesitant. Storm was silent but Cruz could tell by the hum of his engine that he was awake. There was a subtle rattle to it, something wasn't quite right, maybe his mounts needed to be realigned, maybe he needed some more regular exercise... she was surprised to find that she was already mentally constructing a rehab plan for Storm. She blinked a few times and tried to clear her head. There was a whole lot of training to do in the off months with Mr. McQueen, and she had a lot to consider before just traipsing off to New Hampshire to play doctor with Jackson Storm, of all people. 

"Hi, St- uh, Jackson, just thought I'd drive by, see what's happening... how's it going? Everyone misses you," she lied through her teeth, slapping on her happy face. To be honest, even Storm's "fans " hardly brought him up anymore, having moved on to newer racecars, but she thought it would be rude to say so. Manners aside, Storm remained silent. 

"Uh... haha. Beep beep! I know you're in there, guy..." She tried, without receiving so much as a sigh in response. Cruz didn't have a short temper, but she had traveled across the country with little to no information for the arrogant car when he hadn't exactly done her any favors in the past. 

"You know, I came a long way to see you Storm. The least you could do is say hello!" She groused, jolting forward and, yanking the curtains aside. She had to stifle a gasp at the sorry state Storm was in, even though she'd been warned. All his dents had been hammered out and he was smooth and sleek as ever, with a distinguished matte black paintjob to match, but he looked absolutely exhausted in a way she had never seen before. The expression quickly morphed into a more familiar one of rage, however, when he saw the yellow racer. 

"RAMIREZ! Get out of my room, I want her OUT!" Storm croaked, revving his sorry sounding engine up into a roar and flashing his bright blue headlights. 

"Ya big lunk, I just came to say hi," Cruz nervously explained, reversing quickly backwards and letting the curtain fall shut. To her surprise, Storm didn't follow to yell at her, just sat content to be isolated in his parking spot. Cruz made uneasy eye contact with Scion, who gestured to lead her into the next room. 

"Listen, sister, I don't think I'm your gal. You saw how he talked to me, he clearly doesn't want me here!" Cruz blurted out the instant they were out of earshot. 

"That's the most he's said in weeks..." Storm's manager whispered, her brow furrowed with concern. "I … I don't know what else to do Ms. Ramirez..." She sounded on the verge of tears. 

"What's even wrong with him? He looks in tip top shape other than his, er, mood." 

Scion laughed bitterly. 

"If only that were the case! I could deal with his attitude just fine before. They replaced everything they could, but Jackson requires a lot of physical therapy work before he can even dream of seeing the track again. His refusal to work with anyone could be the end of his career." 

"I really don't know about this Scion, It's true I was a tip-top trainer, but Storm's never really been a fan of mine and I don't know if he'd be willing to listen to me at all! He hates my shiny yellow guts." Cruz protested. The thought of coming out here to work with the temperamental racecar was making her increasingly anxious. She tried to blame the queasy feeling she had on the overpoweringly stinky ylang-ylang candle burning nearby. 

"Ms. Ramirez..." Scion looked up at her imploringly, "Cruz. I must ask that you at least consider this for a few days and get back to me. Please. Sleep on it." She sounded desperate. 

"O-.... okay! Okay, okay," Cruz trailed off. She wasted no time in tailing Scion out of the facility and getting back to her semi. Her head spun as they headed towards a nearby hotel. She had to call Mr. McQueen. 

The moment she was comfortably settled in her hotel bunk with the comfortable chirp of evening crickets buzzing outside, Cruz called out the voice command to contact Lightning. He didn't pick up. She tried him again. Then again, and once more, until Lightning's groggy, annoyed visage blinked to life on the screen before her. It looked dark. Wait, wasn't Lightning in Europe right now for some promotional event? Oops. 

Despite the undoubtedly unreasonable hour, her coach looked blearily pleased to hear from her. 

"Cruz! How did that whole thing go with the Storm team? What was that all about?" 

"Whaaaat, no hi, hello, how ya doin', favorite student of mine?" Cruz joked, but she could tell that Lightning saw how tense she was. It was hard to hide her little quirks from someone who knew her so well. 

"Aw, I just know you called me as soon as you got done to tell me about it," he replied, yawning. 

"Guilty as charged. Actually, they want to hire me! Exciting!" 

"What for?" 

"Physical therapy and training. You know, my old specialty! I kinda miss it." 

"PT? For who?" 

"The Queen of England! I think you know who, old timer." 

"Ugh," Lightning groaned, "That rotten apple Jackson Storm has been nothing but a huge bully to you. Yet they have the gall to crawl to you for help now?" 

"I am the best...haha... and they can't get him to listen to anyone else. That's why he's been MIA all season." Cruz muttered, suddenly feeling defensive. 

"You don't owe him anything." Lightning spoke, softly, definitively. 

"I... I know. I just can't get the look in his eyes as he went over that cliff out of my head. I couldn't have actually done anything to stop it but I just keep thinking, if I'd slowed down a little, taken the turns a little easier, maybe he wouldn't have taken such a huge risk and gone down so hard. Maybe I could've reached him, or stopped it somehow." Cruz took a deep breath. 

"It's not my responsibility but... he's in need, Lightning. I have to at least try" 

Lightning's mouth twisted into a weary, close-lipped smile. He looked petulantly fond, and Cruz was pleased to see that expression on him. It made her feel reassured in what she was doing.

"You gotta do what you think is right, kiddo. Hey, maybe you can turn him into someone a little more... positive." 

"Thanks Lightning. Maybe I can. Sorry for waking you!" 

"Yeah, yeah. Call any time you need me, during the DAY!" 

Cruz chuckled and closed out of the call. She settled in for a long rest. She would need it if she was going to be Jackson Storm's new physical therapist.


	2. Am I Incapable of Healing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training is off to a rough start as Storm defies Cruz at every turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want this fic to read like straight angst, so this chapter is considerably more lighthearted. Still Unbeta'd.

After getting her affairs in order, Cruz had sent Storm a quick instant message asking him to be at the recreational track bright and early at six the next morning. She was pleasantly surprised to see the sullen racecar rolling up to the track right on time. Scion was noticeably absent, as she was also managing a few other burgeoning racecars and left Cruz to deal with Storm on her own, telling her that "Jackson will fill you in on all the details, Ms. Ramirez." Cruz couldn't help but feel a bit as if she'd been tricked. Nevertheless, it was a lovely day. The facility's leisure track was a beautiful oval loop of sparkling clean asphalt meant more for strolling than racing, bordered by an elegant, narrow pond stocked with billowing koi on either end. It reeked of wealth, just like everything on the grounds. 

"Good morning! Nice to see you up 'n at 'em Storm!" Cruz crowed in greeting, sidling up to him amicably. It was quite early, early enough that not a single other soul graced the grounds. Storm ground out some sort of inaudible, begrudging greeting, looking at her sidelong. Cruz sighed internally. She could rehabilitate his body, but no one could fix that superior personality of his. Here she was, doing him a favor! At least he wasn't throwing her out again... although she wasn't sure if he had the authority to throw her out of the facility altogether. She wouldn't be surprised if he tried it. She took a deep breath, deciding to just let it go for the time being and focus on her job. 

"Okaaay! I can start you off with just a basic regimen, get those pistons pumping, and adjust it based on your needs. How about you just gimme a slow lap?" Cruz tittered, fiddling with her electronic device to set up her monitors. While it had been less than perfect for training with Lightning, the data really helped her keep track of her charges' progress as a trainer. 

Storm glared at her before taking his mark, then shooting down the quaint little leisure track like a bat out of hell. She jumped in surprise, then zoomed after him to catch up and record his speed and stats. Just as Storm rounded the first turn on the oval track, she caught up to him. She'd been hearing a peculiar clunking noise, however, and as she drew even with Storm it became obvious that something was amiss with him. Although they were going about ninety miles per hour, fast for street driving but slow for a race, he was straining considerably and Hamilton blipped in Cruz's ear that his temperature was rising alarmingly quickly. 

"I meant slow for cars, Storm! Not bullet trains!" She admonished, yelling over the wind as he dutifully ignored her. A moment later she shot past him as there was a loud THUNK, and he spun about haphazardly, skidded off the track for a moment, and splashed down in the fancy fish pond. 

"Okay, not exactly the way I wanted to get him to slow down..." Cruz mused as she spun on a dime to speed back to Storm's side. 

"I told you to slow down, idiota! You busted your.... something!" Cruz shouted, circling frantically as if a tow truck would materialize if she looked around enough. Even Mr. McQueen hadn't been so bullheaded when she first started training him. It was a little bit irritating to be anyplace less lavishly equipped than the elite training facility she was used to working in, which was to say... anyplace else at all. 

She glanced back to Storm, realizing she really hadn't assessed his state, to see him glaring mutely at her with his wheels all askew and a waterlily on his head. It would be cruel to laugh, she told herself. It would be inappropriate, rude, and unprofessional. A fish was flopping on Jackson Storm's hood where he protruded from the pool. 

A snort escaped, then a guffaw. She just couldn't hold it in. There he was, the "Storm after the calm" as she'd heard him refer to himself, the pompous jerk continually lording over the other racers and especially her because he was some kind of pedigree, pondwater up to his eyeballs and a fish trying to unbeach itself from his noble hood. Storm wasn't avoiding her eyes now, and his baleful glare pierced through her good humor until she could compose herself enough to reign in her mirth. 

"Ohhh, okay okay, let me find a tow to get you-"  
"NO! No, no one can see me like this. Just get me out." Storm protested adamantly. Those were the first words he had really spoken to her all day, and they were some kind of self-absorbed command. 

"Storm, I can't give you a tow! I don't have the.... equipment." She gestured to herself meaningfully. 

"Just get something I can hold in my teeth and pull me out like that! Those old minivans already think I'm a joke!! They'll be up soon. Just. Get. Me. OUT." Storm whispered loudly, glancing around conspiratorially. 

Cruz had to hold in another ugly laugh. The thought of the great Jackson Storm living in fear of the mockery of some middle aged, old money minivans was almost pitiful. Where was the fearsome racecar they had all known and feared? It didn't matter how hard she tried to school her expression. Jackson had seen the corners of her mouth curl, and he was sneering at her with even more ire than before. Cruz was surprised that the pondwater hadn't begun to boil yet. She searched around before spotting a pond skimmer nearby. 

"I'm not sure if this will hold your weight, but..." She said through gritted teeth, gripping the handle and holding the skimmer side out to Storm. He looked aghast. Was he really mad she called him fat, now of all times? Her assumption was quickly corrected by Storm's outraged protests. 

"I can't put that in my mouth! It has... scum on it! Get something else right now!" 

"It's completely clean! You're literally covered in fish pee just grab on." Cruz urged, jabbing the skimmer towards him. 

"You take that end! I can't do it. I can't do it." Storm cringed away, churning water with his spinning wheels, " I am a world class racecar. I have dignity. I can't do it." 

"Fine!" She spit it out, indignant. "I'll leave you at the mercy of the vicious minivans. See if I care, Storm! I'm a world class racecar too, as you well know!" 

"No, no, I'll do it, put it in my mouth." Storm shouted after her gravely. Cruz turned to him and saw the look of a man about to be sent to the gallows. The soul had gone out of his eyes. She considered insisting on an apology, but realized how long that might take and silently picked up the skimmer again resolving to just get this over with as quickly as possible. 

"Cheer up buddy. We'll have you outta there in no time," Cruz reassured uneasily. Storm just looked even more like he was having an intense gastrointestinal experience. He silently took the offending "scummy" end in his teeth. 

Cruz began to back up slowly, staring down the end of the skimmer at Jackson Storm, who looked positively disgusted back at her. It really made a lady feel special. The skimmer groaned under the weight and Storm's servos whirred pitifully, but he was slowly and definitely emerging from his watery grave. He was quite heavy, and as a car built for racing instead of towing loads, she was really pushing herself. Storm was going to owe her, and he was gonna owe her bad. She could hold this over him forever. She doubled down, confident now that their plan was working so beautifully. And it was. Until the rod snapped in two. 

Cruz felt herself shoot backwards at an alarming speed. She struggled to right herself, slamming hard on the brakes and shouting in shock. Luckily, she didn't get far enough to do any major damage. Just as far as the opposite koi pond. Which she had fallen into. She could see Storm across the track looking at her as if she were truly the most despicably incapable individual on the planet. As his disdain and the cold water seeped into her insides, Cruz gave a hysterical laugh. There was a fish flopping on her hood. It was kinda cute. 

It was two hours before they got a tow out to help them. 

The minivans had been by several times. Cruz now understood why they were to be feared. 

 

Freshly towed and still reeling from the minivan incident (They really went after the things you didn't even know you were insecure about.) Storm and Cruz were shivering and dripping dirty water all over the nice floors of Storm's condominium. Storm was vainly going on about how he was worried this or that might rust, which was grating at her very last nerve. This might have contributed to why she sounded so terse when she turned to Jackson and barked out, 

"What the heck was that back there! None of this would've happened if you just listened to me! Y'know, your coach, who was hired to help you!" 

"I was doing a lap. You told me to," Storm replied, infuriatingly coolly, gliding past her towards his curtained parking spot. It would have been quite the chilly response if his wet wheels weren't squeaking so comically loud. 

"I told you to warm up!"  
"That was a warmup! We do that on the track all the time!" 

"Are you acting dumb on purpose? Come on Storm we both know you know what I meant!" Cruz accused. If she couldn't get him to cooperate there wasn't really a reason for her to be there at all. 

"I'm not acting "dumb,"" he spit out the word with clear disdain. "I'm not loafing around and crying. I'm doing what needs to be done."  
"Oh really mister, what makes you the expert? Because I, personally, have training and expertise on my side!" She couldn't even believe what she was hearing. Did the fact that she was hired to help him mean nothing to him at all? 

"Listen, Ramirez. Any racecar alive could do that lap in their sleep. I should be able to do that if I want to call myself a racer." 

He slammed theatrically on the lever to automatically shut the curtains about him. There was a loud mechanical whirring as they closed very slowly and he squinted menacingly at her. Cruz felt her righteous annoyance melt away at the pathetic spectacle. She could choose to be hurt by Storm's acidic words, but if she looked past them, to the intention behind them, she could understand what Storm was talking about. He wasn't used to feeling so useless. 

"Y'know, Storm, every racer has to overcome lots of obstacles like this before they become great. It's a lot of work, training a car to be a professional racer. None of them start out champions." Cruz consoled, trying to sound unpatronizing, "There's nothing wrong with taking it slow. In fact, sometimes, cruisin's the only way to get where you're goin', Storm." 

"I was built for this, Ramirez. I have always been able to do it, unlike you. I don't think you understand. If I can't do this, I can't do anything else." Came the terse reply. Cruz was starting to feel like an idiot talking to a churlish swathe of drapery. She heard another mechanical clicking noise and presumed that he had pushed another button, one which caused the blackout shutters over the huge, lovely bay windows to close. Oh, the drama of Jackson Storm. 

"I mean, I know racing's a big part of who you are, but sure you can do other things. You don't have to be so bullheaded..." Cruz argued. Now she was being childish, too. Arguing for the sake of it. She turned around to leave; she needed to cool her head. 

"Racing isn't just a part of who I am. It defines me. Don't... don't go. I'll do whatever you want, as long as it means I can race again. Please." Storm gritted out. Cruz was so shocked that Storm had used his manners that she almost laughed aloud. 

" 'Course I'll come back. Tomorrow. You had a spill today and you need to rest. I'll send in a doctor to take a look at that clunk-CLUNK, make sure you're in good shape for tomorrow. Your assignment for today is to relaaax, take a nap." She advised airily as she swept out of the room. It wasn't exactly an apology but she felt like she'd pushed past some sort of barrier already. 

 

The next few weeks had been a series of similar escapades, despite Cruz's optimism. Storm had disregarded, pushed, and defied her instruction regularly resulting in him needing another checkup and rest for the day. While that energy is normally something she would embrace and encourage Storm to transform into positive action, excessive action was the last thing he needed. Would it kill the guy to slow down? It certainly would accelerate his recovery. 

"Today," Cruz thought to herself, clinging to hope, "Today will be the day we finally get something done." 

Scant more than a month of the off season remained, and Cruz was determined to at least get Storm rolling before she had to return to her day job. She felt a magnetic pull to help him, but she wasn't about to abandon the career she had worked so diligently to secure. They were assessing Storm's core strength today, so she had him set up pulling a cart loaded with a moderate amount of weight on a treadmill. After weeks of overheating, more mysterious clanking, and general uncooperativeness from Jackson Storm (Who Cruz seemed to recall quite clearly agreeing to cooperate fully!), this was the simplest, least risky activity she could imagine. As usual, the facility was blessedly vacant at this early hour. She adjusted the track's speed via remote, thankful that they were indoors, eliminating the risk of Storm tumbling into any wayward koi ponds. 

Cruz activated Hamilton and let her mind wander to Lightning and her other friends. She knew they would be here for her if she were in Storm's place, yet Storm had no one. After being around him for a little while, however, she was no longer sure whether that was because he didn't have friends, or if he had driven them all off. He seemed shameful of his injured state, to the point where even acknowledging he was hurt at all would be a defeat. 

"LEFT REAR TIRE PRESSURE DECREASING RAPIDLY" Hamilton intoned quietly in her ear, interrupting her thoughts. Cruz squinted at Storm and witnessed that, surely enough, his left rear tire was sinking closer to the track. A faint hissing was audible if she listened attentively. Storm had had a cursory exam yesterday after he took a little spill during yesterday's botched training activity, but it was entirely possible that there was damage to the inner tire wall that had been overlooked. Cruz, frankly, was quite shocked that Storm continued his exercise without doing or saying a single thing. He hadn't even glanced down at his tire once, although she knew for a fact he had to feel it deflating at this point. A loud groaning grind rose over the treadmill's noises when Storm's rim hit the surface and continued to roll as he continued the activity unperturbed. Cruz was absolutely baffled. 

"Storm, stop." She ordered, but he continued as if he hadn't heard her. She dialed the remote down to zero, pulling up next to him. 

"You know, you've got a flat." Cruz gestured to his wheel, stating the obvious. The wheel looked like a very burnt pancake. 

"I... am aware. Why have we paused?" Storm replied snippily. 

"Driving on a flat's gonna damage you more, Jackson! What if I hadn't noticed? You could've put yourself even further behind schedule than we already are!" She explained, exasperated. Surely, being a professional, Storm KNEW that. 

"I wanted to actually complete one training session. I would have doubtless been ordered to "nap it off," had I disclosed an issue... I want to be fit race again as quickly as possible." Storm grumbled. His posture was lined with tension as Cruz detached the hitch and pushed the cart to the side. 

"You've really got a one-track mind, don't you Storm?" Cruz laughed dryly. There he was, acting the expert again. "Pushing blindly forward isn't the only way to make progress y'know. Technique, hard work, and even naps all work together in physical therapy. I do have a plan, even though you're doing your best to destroy it. C'mon now, back off the track and lemme change your wheel." She added in a tone that brokered no argument. 

Storm eyed her warily as he limped into the indicated position. Cruz produced an electric screwdrive from the small cart of supplies the facility had taken to loaning her after the first few Jackson Storm Incidents, with a capital "i". She hadn't had need of them before today, however, and was hesitant to touch Storm in this capacity. A tire change was a simple task that didn't require her to call for help, and there was a spare right there on the cart. She steeled herself and resolved to take care of it on her own despite her personal discomfort. 

Cruz loosened the lug nuts without incident, taking care to touch Storm as little as possible. It was proving difficult to change a tire on a vehicle she was trying not to touch. Throwing caution to the wind, she crowded in closer to wedge the jack underneath him. 

"Okay, lock your wheels!" Was all the courtesy she gave him before elevating the jack and tilting his face downwards. 

"Could you watch it, Ramirez?!" Storm exclaimed, sounding quite scandalized. Cruz's pity only rose momentarily before she smushed it back down. If this bolts-for-brains hadn't been fooling around yesterday, they wouldn't be in such a compromising position. 

"What are you so worked up over?" Cruz blustered, although she was starting to feel shy herself as she picked up the electric screwdriver to finish removing the tire. "I'm just helping you. There's nothing wrong with getting help, y'know, that's kinda the whole reason you hired me. Remember that? When you asked me to come help you?" She continued blithely on as she removed the old tire. 

"SCION invited you." Storm snapped, "She didn’t alert me of your arrival until after your plane had already landed." Cruz blinked at him, paused in the middle of securing his new wheel. That must have been quite the surprise, indeed. She felt bad for Scion, who had, no doubt, had to deal with one of Storm's little temper tantrums upon breaking the news. Cruz had heard enough attitude out of Jackson Storm, however, desperate eyes or no. She completed her task and abruptly lowered him back to level. 

"Well, I don't wanna be anywhere I'm not wanted, Storm. I can leave right now and get back to my life. Do you want me to stay and help you?" Cruz asked, leveling him with a warm gaze. Storm looked startled to be put on the spot. 

"Why I have never, I truly haven't... well... Y... yes. " he admitted, his expression guarded. 

"Then ask me." She challenged, her stare unwavering. 

"Help me with my physical therapy. Please," he added hastily. Cruz accepted it. 

"Okay, now say you're sorry." She commanded tersely. 

"I will not! I have nothing to apologize fo-" he squawked before he noticed her expression hardening. 

"I am sorry. " he spat, glancing to her to see if it was admissible. Her expectant silence told him it was not. 

"I'm sorry for...sabotaging my training. I need to trust you. And... I'm sorry for being impolite to you." He gritted out reluctantly. Cruz felt her cheeks begin to ache as she beamed. 

"Apology accepted. Nothing wrong with asking for a little help, Jackson! Everyone needs to sometimes. Let's get you hitched up and finish the lesson." She chirped, bustling about to reattach the wagon and usher him onto the exercise equipment. Storm was prideful, hurt, and prone to dramatics, but at the end of the day he just wanted to be able to do what he loved. Cruz could understand that. He looked shocked that she was allowing him back on it at all, clearly expecting to be sent back to his room for another rest. 

"If I can trust you to respect your limits and ask for help, there's no need to cut the session short." She explained, busying herself with Hamilton and her notes. She missed the awe that flitted briefly through Jackson Storm's flinty eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of questions in Cars lore that are unanswerable without disrupting the delicate illusion that is the Cars universe. I have done my best to skirt these issues while still creating an interesting narrative.
> 
> I also wanted to address that I change how characters refer to one another, using first or last names and titles. It makes for a more natural read and imitates how people refer to one another in real life. For example, I don't want to ignore that Cruz referred to Lightning as "Mr. McQueen" in the movie, but i think they would be on more equal footing now and she would feel comfortable referring to him more casually. Additionally, I have tried to give Jackson and Cruz speech patterns unique to them but I think it may have come across a little unnatural. I'm still working on it.

**Author's Note:**

> they will actually interact in chapter two


End file.
